The Storm
by Maranwe Elanor
Summary: songficlette Um. Well, there's Aragorn angst and Legolas angst, and Elladan and Elrohir angst, and Elrond angst. I thought I might as well try my hand at writing Arwen angst and let you read it. g Aragorn's side is now up if you like.
1. The Storm

**Title**: The Storm

**Author:** Maranwe

**Rating: **PG

**Summary:** It's after The War of the Ring. Sauron has been defeated and Aragorn has pretty much become King Elessar. But instead of getting married, he calls off his wedding to Arwen, and this is what happens with her. Basically self explanatory, I think.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Arwen nor Aragorn. They belong to Tolkien, be it father or son, or whoever else might have rights to them. This was inspired by Garth Brook's song The Storm, but it's not longer here because of Not really. Well . . . no, not really. Unless you consider the fact that Sauron was defeated a spoiler, and in that case you've already read too far.

**A/N:** At a later date, I may go back and fix this so it makes more sense or flows better—what have you—without the lyrics that made me take down. I seriously considered leaving them in to dare the devils to take action, but I decided that's not fair to you, the readers, so this is my unwilling compliance.

Adieu.

o/o/o/o/o

Tears streaming down her face, she ran down the hall, stumbling slightly as she turned the corner, her face buried in her hands. She needed to get away. The pain rolled inside her, creating a tornado of heartache that threatened to destroy her. It was pulling her under and the only thing she could think to do was to run, to hide.

A broken sob wrenched itself from her lips, echoing down the hallway as she finally reached her room, an island and a cage in one, both a haven and a prison. She threw the door open as she stumbled in, then turned and closed it, leaning against the wood, her breath coming in heaving sobs. Slowly, she sunk to the floor, water slipping down her porcelain checks.

Pain-filled eyes scanned her room, looking for something to latch onto, an emotional life-vest that could keep her head above the rising tide of sorrow, and came up empty. It should have been perfect, was perfect. They were perfect for each other, she knew it. Why had he rejected her? Why, when everything was finally perfect?

Her lips trembled as she fought a new round of tears. How could she go one? Her love was gone. She had been cast adrift, lost in this ever rising flow that threatened to engulf her, and she had no hope to hold onto to keep her from drowning. Hope had gone.

Deep blue eyes settled over her desk, where a small portrait of her and Estel, happy, smiling, before the care and sorrow of time had come and taken it away. Aragorn had changed much from that time, and so had she. No longer could she identify with the woman in that picture; that happiness was no longer hers, would never be hers again, a foreign emotion.

Rage bubbled up, inside her, lighting her eyes with a passion that had been missing since Aragorn had called off the wedding. Rage at herself for being a such a fool to fall in love with a man, a mortal. Rage at her family for being right. But most of all, rage at Aragorn for making a promise, a promise he had not kept and breaking her heart.

Beyond reason, she jumped up and crossed the room, screaming in a mixture of anger and pain, a heart-rending sound that was as jagged as the broken heart that uttered it. She ripped the portrait from the wall, flinging it across the room, strangely satisfied by the loud crack that sounded once it impacted the wall and the wood frame fractured into dozens of pieces. Fueled by the satisfaction, she swept her arms across her desk, sweeping every item away. Delicate objects she had collected for years crashed into the wall, shattering, the sound of their breaking ringing in her ears, echoing the sound of her breaking heart.

More tears streamed down her face, streaking silver, and she turned, eyes coming to rest on a vase that sat on a small pedestal by the door. She darted forward and grabbed it, then heaved it with all her might at the wall with a shrill cry. A thud sounded, overshadowed by the crash that sounded like the rush of the waterfall at her father's house, where she had stood with her love and promised themselves to the other, where she had made her choice.

Then she slumped, sliding to the floor among the broken pieces of her life, weary beyond measure, lost in her pain. Her eyes drifted among the broken pieces, coming to rest on the portrait once again. With a last shuddering sob, she gave in to the tears once and for all as the words of her family and friends echoed through her mind, as unstoppable as the torrent of tears that flowed down her face and the heartache that threatened to rip her in two.

_He doesn't love you, Arwen. He's just an Edan, another man. They are not to be trusted._

_. . . You're throwing your happiness away, dear one, it can never last._

_The hearts of men are fickle things. He'll leave you in tears and heartbroken._

_I don't want to lose you, Arwen. He will take you away from me with this foolishness._

She sobbed harder, the quiet singing of the birds a painful reminder that she was alone, alone in her grief. And the only thing she could ask was why.

Why?

o/o/o/o/o

A week later she was back in Rivendell, forced to face the sympathetic smiles and quiet well-wishers, her kin. Before they had returned home, she had been forced to attend a party. Before she could escape, she had been forced to see everyone else's happiness, feel their pity. So she had smiled, the grace of her heritage covering the shakiness of her emotions.

She had seen Aragorn. He was laughing, charming as ever, moving among the people, full-filling his duties as King. She should have been by his side, should have been helping him, yet he had pushed her aside. For what?

She paused in the hall, her breathing ragged as she fought the tears that threatened; she had cried too much already. The answers did not matter; the deed was done. She was alone, and for her father, she had to continue, at least until he left for the sea. Then, she could go with him and leave her heartache behind forever.

That was her only solace. For her father she would not fade; she would cross the sea with him. She would try to move on.

A small box caught her eye, simple and unadorned but with an intricate carving on the top. It sat on a table and she walked towards it, drawn against her will, for she already knew what it was, could see it perfectly well. It had been a gift from Aragorn some years ago and she had brought it with her to Rivendell when she returned from Lothlorien.

With new tears pooling in her eyes, she delicately picked the box up, fingering it with morbid wonder. She blinked and a crystal tear flowed down her cheek. Now trembling, her hands moved to open the lid.

A small, beautifully carved figurine appeared, twirling slowly as the strains of a song she had loved began floating through the air, a delicate melody that spoke of love and tenderness, of everlasting happiness. One hand crept to her mouth as more tears gathered in her eyes.

A broken cry issued from her lips, and she turned and ran, darting down the hallway for the safety of her room, away from prying eyes. The jewelry box fell, unheeded, to the floor, cracking upon impact with the smooth stone, as delicate as the heart that had been broken. The figurine snapped, and the music stopped.

She reached her room, flinging the door closed behind her with as much force as she could manage. It slammed closed with a loud thud, rattling the walls. She threw herself on the bed, shoulders heaving as the pain once again overwhelmed her. His eyes, pitying but remorseless, as he told her he could not marrying her, that they were never meant to be.

Her heart, which she had thought could break no more, broke again, sending her once more into the storm she did not think she could weather again. And as she lay there, crying throughout the night, her thoughts castigated herself for her foolishness in her family's words, words that had spoken over the long years of her delusion.

o/o/o/o/o

She sat at the table laughing with her friends. They had kept at it, relentlessly seeking her out, refusing to let her drown in her sorrow day in and day out, refusing to let her fade. Their efforts hindered her, but she had long since grown used to them and knew they would never leave.

They had dragged her on outings, out to parties that her heart was not in. For their sakes, she had pretended to enjoy herself, an act so true that even her father thought she was over Aragorn. At times, during the day when the sun shone brightly overhead and the birds sang, when there was laughter echoing through Rivendell, she could almost believe it as well. Enough, at least, not to give herself away.

She rode horses and danced; Sang, even, if her mood was light enough. She traveled with her brothers when they went hunting or spent time with her father. She walked the garden paths she had loved as a child, and wandered the many trails through the woods, once more as free to do so as she had been as a child. Carefree. Happy.

But she was not.

When the sun went down, she escaped to her room, slamming the door against any who would wish to disturb her. No one did. She thought she was over Aragorn, that she had forgotten him, but she could not; would not. She loved him. And every night, her thoughts turned to him, her love, her loss.

And she cried; for what was, and is, and yet would be. Each night, she drowned, only to somehow survive and carry on. Not much longer, though, and then she could let go. Her friends thought she was fine. Her father was leaving soon.

But she was heartbroken, and the tears fell.


	2. I Don't Love You Anymore

This one, too, might one day be revised. I'm not sure. Erasing the lyrics is making me sad.

**I Don't Love You Anymore**

_"If you love her, you won't marry her."_

Aragorn, King Elessar, walked down one of the pristine marble hallways of his new home, head held high, face impassive as if carved from stone, eyes expressionless and unseeing though they scanned the hall before him.

_"If you love her, let her remain with her people. Do not subject her to the doom of yours."_

The beauty around him was undiminished from the last he had seen of it; the paintings as expressive, the statues as lovely in their gilded detail, the columns as stately in their strength, carven so majestically in a time long past remembrance, though there were some who yet remained that could remember when it was naught but empty land, unclaimed by the world of men. It was still beautful, his home, but it went by unmarked, unappreciated, for it was forever overshadowed by the one who held his heart.

_"Do not suffer her to the pain and death that will be the only reward of your love."_

It was the reward for his actions, his bravery in the fight against Sauron, yet no creation by mortal men could ever hope to rival the beauty of the one who held his heart, could ever hope to rival her grace and elegance, her smile, so vibrant, the light in her eyes, so true. Nothing could ever be worthy of competing for his attention over that of his love.

It pained him more than he could ever express, had he the time and the words, to know his love, allowing her to love him, would doom her to a lifetime of pain, of being forced to remain when his life passed on. It was not a choice he made lightly, not one he could ease with gentle words. He would give anything for her to not suffer that pain, that loss. She deserved more, deserved everything. He could not give it to her.

_"Do you love her?"_

His footsteps were steady and unyielding, echoing hollowly in the stone hallway he traversed, his steps heavier than ever they had been, weighed down by grief, by time that had passed in the knowledge that he could not tell the one he loved that he loved her. The sound matched the beat of his heart, ever going on, never stopping, taking him somewhere he did not wish to go. He had been there before.

A corner appeared. He turned. A door stood at the end of the hall, solid, carved in intricate design. He approached them with the same implacable step that still echoed in his mind and pushed them without thought, without hesitation. They opened to a room he did not see even as he knew it well and crossed the floor to emerge on his balcony, an expansive rise that view north, west, and south. Here, finally, he stopped, resting his hands against the smooth white railing, and leaned into that touch, needing the strength of immovable stone.

_"Hurt her to save her."_

He had. Valar help him, he had.

He had watched as the joy, brilliant luminescence to rival the sun, faded from her eyes, watched as confusion took its place and soon mingled with pain. He had watched, the only thing he could do, his emotions locked tightly away so she could not see the pain in his own eyes and know if she but persisted, she would win. He had watched, but he turned away before realization dawned, before he could see her heart break through her eyes. Then for the last, he pushed her away.

She did not try again. He had won, yet the victory was not his.

His heart broke, and all he could do was ignore it while he continued on, laughing and full-filling his obligations so she would not see, push it aside and pretend it did not exist so that he could believe, if only for a little while, that what he claimed was true . . . and ignore the words of friends who knew him too well to think everything was fine, no matter how flawless his mask, how thoroughly he convinced himself that he did not lie.

The wind blew, pulling at the cloak that flowed behind him, yet the heavy material would not be moved. He was king, the Shadow defeated, Suaron cast down for the final time, his people safe. . . . It was done, he was done, but the rewards he had worked for were gone, soured in the achieving by his own choice.

His eyes closed, shutting out the beauty he beheld as he leaned heavily on the white banister before him, the only thing holding him up. She had gone, returned with her father to Rivendell, returned to cross over the sea with the rest of her kin, long ago. Her presence was gone and could not touch him, but he could not stop lest word get back to his love and ruin all.

The remaining members of the fellowship had left shortly after her; the hobbits to their Shire, Legolas and Gimli on their promised journey through Fangorn Forest and the Glittering Caves at Helm's Deep, and Gandalf off to wherever he had always gone, still a Pilgrim at heart though he be white or gray.

His eyes opened, the dull silver taking in the beauty once more. Yes, they had gone, and he was alone in a land he had never wanted to call his own, among a people he did not want to rule, but had never been able to escape. It was not how it was supposed to be, and yet he had made his choice, made it as he stood in front of those gates and saw her approach, felt the full weight of his doom and his responsibilities, so long denied.

_"There will be no choice before Arwen Undomiel, unless you, Aragorn, place it there. You do not yet know what you ask of me."_

Knowing came too late. The last ship was just about to set sail. Soon, and she and the rest of her kin would be gone forever, and he could stop pretending for it would be done, ever and after unchangable. Then he would be free, and the pain would be gone. He hoped he could pretend he did not love her that long.

The Undying Lands would be ever green. His love, a memory.


	3. If That's What It Takes

Hi, all. I'm back and I have another chappie for you. Wonderful reviewers asked me to continue, so I found it in my heart to oblige. *g* Oh, and there are no lyrics this time. I couldn't find a song I felt worked, so I took a title I felt fit but the song doesn't exactly fit the chapter, so it's not included. 

Your welcome steph-h. 

ME123, on the off chance that you're still reading this, I got Maranwe off a name translator. Put my name in and it came out. That is so weird, but cool. 

Luthea . . . Here. Um, well, you get your wish. It's just the evilness in me that is keeping this angsty. I have so much fuel. *g* 

Stacee Phelps, hi! You also get your wish, well at least part of it. We'll just have to see about the happy ending with Aragorn and Arwen back together again. This just might be the first step. Here. 

And now, on to the much anticipated (lol) new chapter. Read and enjoy, then review. I love them. =D****

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**If That's What It Takes**

Lord Elrond stood on his balcony, overlooking the gardens of Imladris, beautiful as ever though the elf knew that would soon change, as soon as the elves left the shore of Middle-earth. The birds seemed to know the change, and it was a sweet melancholy that filled the air, the peace of the elven refuge tinged with sadness. He would that it was not so, yet he could not change it. 

His keen, piercing blue eyes fell on his daughter below, walking slowly among the flowers, tending the blooms ere she departed. The fair Arwen Undomiel spent more time among the flowers than she ever had before, shunning social gatherings in favor of the quiet solitude of nature, her lovely face solemn and her countenance a perfect match for the birds' songs. 

He rested his hands against the railing, his eyes never leaving his daughter's form as she finished her walk and sank to the ground, easing onto her back so she laid on the ground, her eyes turned listlessly to the sky, and it was not difficult to discern the shadows in her eyes, and he knew: she was think of Aragorn, Elessar, again. 

It had surprised even him when Aragorn had announced there would be no wedding, that he would not join hands with the fairest being yet remaining in Middle-earth, that all he had hoped for since he came to manhood was what he was denying, even as he accepted what he had long denied. It was a surprise he was ashamed to admit had pleased him to no end for he had no desire to lose his daughter to the Doom of Men, the same doom that had stolen his brother so many years decades ago. 

He had looked upon his youngest and seen no hesitation, no regret, and he wondered now if he had merely overlooked it because he did not wish to see it. But it was the distress of his only daughter that concerned him now. After her original distress, Arwen had seemed to take the announcement rather well, even participating in the many feasts held as parting tokens for the elves who left before them with seeming happiness. He had seen no pain in her then, and he _knew_ that was because he did not wish to see it. 

Now, though, he could see all. What he had originally noticed only a little while ago had actually come about slowly, and it was obvious now that her heart was still broken as she pulled away from anyone and everyone, hiding herself away. Even his high vantage point could not hide the pain that he could sense resting just beneath her desperate mask of calm. When the first tears fell, they seared his heart. 

The elf lord wanted to protect his daughter, shelter her from the pain of loving a mortal, of losing one to their inevitable fate. He had been unable to change her mind, had known he would not be able to, and had turned instead to Aragorn, pleading with him that he let her go. Pain closed his eyes and it was not the kind that could be fought with aught but the heart, nor did he wish to. For all his wisdom and all his vaunted foresight, he had not seen this: in trying to protect his children, he had hurt them both. 

He opened his eyes and looked at his daughter's face. Crystal tears formed in depthless blue eyes that held too much pain for one so fair, trickling down pale cheeks to catch gracefully pointed ears before being caught in silky black hair. Gone from her eyes was the light of the moon, of the stars, happiness in simply living in Middle-earth that had once been hers. Gone was the joy that had lit her face whenever Aragorn was near or she heard his name, the peace that seemed to settle over her when he stood near, and it shattered his heart anew to realize it was gone, to realize he was responsible for destroying the same joy in his daughter that he had delighted in seeing in Celebrian's eyes whenever she had looked at him. 

Pain threatened to collapse his knees, and he leaned against the low balustrade for support, the odd clenching feeling about his middle tingling through his entire body and leaving him feeling even weaker than before. He lifted eyes he did not remember dropping and once again looked upon his daughter, looked upon her and knew. 

For all the pain it would cause him, for as hard as he had fought to keep her by his side, as hard as it was to lose her, to leave her, it would be a million times worse to bind her to him in her pain, and know every time he looked into her eyes that the pain was there because of him. He would let her go. Whatever he had wanted, it was not this. 

Twin footsteps, blended nearly into one, ghosted behind him and he did not need to look to see that Elladan and Elrohir had joined him in his vigil. They, too, gazed down upon Arwen and her pain was no less visible to them than to their father. 

"You will depart soon?" Elladan asked softly, his voice abrupt in the silence that surrounded the elves. 

"Aye," he answered, the pain he felt poorly concealed in his voice. "The Lady of the Golden Woods arrives soon with the kin who travel with her. It will not be long." 

It would not be long, no, and he could not bear the thought of Arwen sailing to Valinor when her heart truly belonged in Middle-earth with Aragorn. Almost before he realized it, he murmured, "I would not have her go like this." 

He felt startled eyes on him and nearly wept from the thought that his children would think him so cold-hearted as to glean any satisfaction from the pain of his only daughter. Nearly, but the pain was far too near. He whispered, "She still loves him." 

"Aye, father," Elrohir answered. "She always will." 

"Is his heart so set, I wonder," he mused, the thought voiced softly without any real consideration. But whatever answer he had expected, it was not silence, and his gaze was tempted towards his sons, tearing his eyes away from the image of his forlorn daughter. The pain he saw in their eyes gaze him pause, and he watched in fascinated anguish as Elladan gathered himself to speak. 

"His heart breaks, Ada," he whispered brokenly. "He hides it well, even as does Arwen, but his heart yet yearns for the one he himself denied and he will take no other. He has not declaimed as such, but we believe he waits only for Arwen to pass over the sea before making his intentions known." 

Elrohir took over. "His heart is not in his work; I do not think he has any heart to give. He eats if he is forced to eat and sleeps if he is forced to sleep, but if left to his own devices Aragorn would simply waste away, staring listlessly over something that would have previously brought him joy, or at the least solace, even as now does our dear sister." He paused a moment, eyes fixed on Arwen's still form. Then, "I fear for him, Ada. I fear for Gondor once his determination fails." 

"And it will," Elladan continued, voice haunted. "Even now he just manages to pretend he isn't dying inside a little more with each day that passes. Most do not even see, but those who know him do. And one day, too much will have died and the shell will crumble and all will be lost. It is painful to watch, yet there is nothing that may be done." 

The birds continued to sing, their tune even more mournful to the ears of the elven lord, and the skitter of squirrels and other such critters was slow with grief. All of Middle-earth mourned the passing of the elves; the grass, the rocks, the trees . . . the creatures. Arwen lamented the love she would never have once she sailed. Aragorn mourned the loss of the love he had denied himself for the happiness of others. The people of Gondor, whether they realized it or not, would mourn the loss of their king too soon. Elladan and Elrohir mourned the sadness and pain of two they considered family, and he mourned the death of joy he had caused in his children. It was too much pain for one time, too much in the face of such victory as the defeat of Sauron presented. 

Heart breaking still more, eyes unwavering on his beloved daughter, he spoke. 

"There is one thing." 


	4. No Hope

This one, technically, did not need to be altered because the lyrics were mine, but it just felt wrong to leave them in when all the others were gone. I don't think it really hurts this one, anyway, to have them taken away.

**No Hope**

A lonely torch set into the wall near a large and cluttered desk provided the only glow in the large room filled with parchment and dusty tomes long unused. The room was silent save for the hopeless roar of the torch and the deliberate scratch of a quill. It was the middle of the night, but the room's lone occupant paid the time no mind. He busied himself with papers and bills, looking over treaties and matters of state, reading letters, his hands and mind engaged to keep his heart at bay. There were so many emotions he did not want to feel, could not, and so long as he was focused on Gondor, trivial matters that could not be ignored, he could not think of Arwen. At least, that was the idea.

It went well, fairly well, considering a part of his mind always had and always would focus on the elf-maiden who had stolen his heart. It kept his mind blank, mostly unengaged as he went through motions, motions he had made every night for weeks. There was much that needed to be caught up on, affairs that needed to be put in order, yet that was not why he persued his task.

The rustle of paper flipped, rubbing against its own, then stillness and the quill scraped once more. Duty was easier than love, than listening to the heart. It was easier to pretend nothing but his status as king and ruler existed than to fight the longing in his very heart, his soul. It was easier to pretend there was no past than to deny eyes of deepest sapphire in a sweet and flawless face, easier to pretend there was no Arwen than to pretend it was not her name on his lips. It was easier to erase all that had gone before he was king than to remember their moments together and know there would be no more.

Because it was easier, he escaped every night to his study to continue what he had not finished the night before or the lonely night before that and lost himself amid piles of parchment and ink amid the scratch of a quill, his only companions save his thoughts and they were so much easier to bear. Sleep brought him no release, for even there he could not escape her, even here.

Aragorn dropped the quill and buried his face in his hands, rubbing them up and down as if he sought to erase his every thought from his mind. Every sight of beauty was compared to her, every wish wound its way to her, every room reminded him of what he had thought to share with her, a life they would never know. Every room . . . but this one. This one held Elrond for him, so similar was it to the elven lord's own study that he could have been in Rivendell, and that brought its own pain.

He had gained the throne and lost the only family he had ever known. He had desired what was not his to claim and he had lost his father. He had bowed to his father and hurt his love, his heart, but did not regain his father's favor, and so had lost them both. With them, he lost his brothers, for they had gone to Rivendell to pass over the sea and return a family once sundered back to fullness, gone to a place he could never go far beyond the horizon.

A sob jerked his form, shuddering through his form with the agony of release, voicing the sorrow that had only ever escaped in sleep, a hoarse cry that was deadened before it could pass to other ears. His hands slid down to clamp over his mouth as icy tears worked their way past his lashes and down his cheeks, streaking the ashy skin.

He had nothing . . . nothing but an empty heritage and a heavy burden he knew not how to bear. And pain.

o/o/o/o/o

The moon hung heavy in the sky, drifting towards dawn too slowly for its observer's piece of mind. A gentle breeze, carrying a chill she did not feel, teased her hair, wrapping their strands around her arm. Disconsolable, she looked up at the stars and wished for the contingent of the Golden Wood to come so she could be freed from her tortured existence.

Rivendell had not been her home for many years, since her mother left, and she found the halls just as painful as ever, but with new reason. Aragorn had lived here. He had run through the halls, strolled and played in the gardens, slept in the rooms, studied with her father and learned his healing touch, traveled into the heart of her family and claimed her own. Silver eyes, both pleading and hard, haunted her every step. It was easier to forget her heart was broken under the stars.

Blue eyes that did not catch the light of the stars like they used to turned from them, a sigh escaping and weary footsteps bore her back inside. She passed under the arched doorway of her father's house then padded softly down the hallway, desperately trying not to remember the last time she had seen Aragorn so many long years before: the age that had weathered his face with care, the wisdom that had sat upon his brow, the mix of light and dark, hope and fear that danced just behind his eyes, visible to those who could see. She turned a corner and ascended the stairs, bracing himself for when she reached the top. Everyday the staircase seemed to stretch on interminably, the time passing slowly as if was not where she wished to be, yet disappearing in a flash, what she knew lay at the top forever catching her unprepared.

This time was no different.

She stopped, her eyes riveted to a families dose as memory assaulted her and tears she thought long dried up spilt down her cheeks. Aragorn's room, a painful reminder, a mockery of the hope she had felt and held dear through the long years of trial.

With a choked cry she continued quickly past, nearly running in her desire to escape her memories. Her grandmother could not arrive too soon.

o/o/o/o/o

Elladan and Elrohir rode like the wind, pushing their steeds as hard as they dared in their rush. Time was close and both were reminded of the mad rush to save Gondor and Middle-earth from the destruction of Sauron's hand. The two elves would almost prefer to relive that than continue where they were, pain tearing their family apart.

Their hearts lifted, then, when Minas Tirith lay near before them, only about five leagues distant and dawn just barely touching its tallest tower; though they could not yet relax, they could hope.

The ground rolled away beneath them and they were not halted as they passed through the first gate, though they did call a greeting, and raced across the Pelannor fields, the horn that resounded across the land announcing their presence as it traveled faster than they across the wide expanse of land that lay before them, faster than they could hope to travel.

They dismounted at the inner circle, two hands already waiting to lead the elvish horses away for rest. Without comment, they were nodded through the inner gate. A drawn and harried man met them just inside the door of the palace, and it was a startled moment before either recognized the man for who he was.

Dull silver eyes darted between them anxiously. "I had not expected you back so soon," Aragorn said.

Elladan stepped forward. "We had not expected it either."

"What is wrong?" demanded Aragorn, scanning the brothers for injuries. "You were not attacked? You are not injured?"

"Nay, we are well," assured Elrohir. "It is on different purpose that we rode hither with much haste."

"Speak, then," Aragorn bid, swallowing apprehensively, his breathing heavier than usual, though he thought nothing of it.

"We would not speak of it here," the elder said, and the man nodded immediately, leading them away from the guards and into a small room off the main hall that was rarely used but was still well furnished. Once inside, he turned to look at the elven twins expectantly. Elladan sighed. "We bring word from Father."

Aragorn stopped breathing, fear choking off his lungs though his mind would not form a solid thought on what he feared. He made no move to interrupt.

"He bids you ride with all haste to Rivendell."

"Why?" breathed the king.

Sad blue eyes held his steadily and he spoke but one word. "Arwen."


	5. Let's Talk About Love

Hm, well here's the next chapter. I can't say when the next will be up, but I will do all in my power to assure you don't have to wait more than a week. I have to be able to play with the chapters since it isn't written and I don't always have the time. Now, no song with this one. I don't think you will mind. *looks contemplative* I couldn't find one that fit and I refuse use one just to have one. So. 

**Mirax:** Um, well, let's see what you think of Elrond after this. I didn't like how they changed Elrond, either. But. . . . 

**Steph-h:** Hold your horses. It's coming. 

**KatAleson:** I thought about having an Aragorn flashback. Can't remember why I threw it out. As for the songfic thing *shrugs* Is there a specific formula for it? I know some of the dialogue stinks. It's hard to go from emotions to dialogue, and that was as good as I could get it without agonizing over it for weeks. *g* Dialogue should be better here. I know all about some of the really bad fanfics on this site. But I won't go into that or I might say something I regret. The good news is that for all the bad stuff, there's a few nuggets of gold if you look hard enough. 

**Celebroch:** I'm glad my emotions meet with your approval. *g* I hope you enjoy this chappie too. Thanks; I don't write poetry all that often, so I'm glad it doesn't stink. 

**Grumpy:** *smiles jauntily* I keep forgetting where I am on this story. But there's more on what Elrond wants in here. I'm glad you're loving it. 

**Taraisilwen:** Thank you. *smiles brilliantly* You made my day. I try to go for real, because the realer it is, the bigger impact it has. At least, I think so. 

Now, onto the next chapter. This one is even almost a decent length. Hehe. Have fun. Enjoy. Review. And I'll see you all next chapter. *smiles* 

**Let's Talk About Love**

Aragorn blinked. In that flicker of an eye, that brief moment in time, all emotion was wiped from the human's face, leaving nothing behind. "What of her?" he asked. 

Neither twin spoke, momentarily thrown by the callousness of the question. Elladan recovered first. "She seeks the Undying Lands." 

"This is your news?" demanded the king, voice hard before he turned away. "Your haste was wasted." 

"She seeks it for a broken heart," Elrohir continued, watching as the man moved away from them and paused by a couch, low-set and plain. Neither could see his face. "Long has she waited to be by your side, to take your hand in matromony and so proclaim your love to all the free peoples of Middle-earth. Her heart breaks that all was in vain, that all of your and her suffering has gone for naught. It breaks for you." 

"I have made my decision," countered Aragorn, his tone unchanged, and had the twins not konw the situation and the human so well they might have thought it final. 

Instead, Elladan stepped forward. "No, you have made Father's decision." 

Aragorn still did not face them, and the twins tried desperately to guage the one they called brother through his body language and found themselves thwarted. Whatever he had learned in their long years apart, or unlearned, he had mastered his body and hid his feelings well. They could make no headway in his feelings. 

Finally, the man sighed and turned to face them, weariness and an age he had not previously borne written over every inch of his face, held in the very depths of his soul and glimpsed in his eyes. "Father's decision is the right one," he said. "I cannot give her what she deserves. I am doomed to leave her alone and heartbroken. That is a thought I cannot bear." 

"It is not yours alone to bear," Elrohir denied. "What of Arwen? What of her desires? What of her happiness?" 

Aragorn did not reply immediately, his face set, his eyes staring blankly somewhere past them as if watching something they could not see. "She denies that her heart would break. She does not understand the fate she chooses." 

"Is it so difficult to think she would love you? Would you not bear anything for her?" 

A slightly trembling hand came up and covered his mouth, only to be removed a moment later, the man once again composed. "There is nothing to bear," he said flatly. 

"Estel!" Elladan cried out in frustration. "You do not have to pretend with us! We know how you feel. It does no good to deny it." 

"What would you have me say?" burst Aragorn, anger flaring in his listless gaze. "Tell you my heart burns at her absense? That I cannot go a day, nay a minute without thinking of her, her laugh, her smile, her eyes, her voice? That I can scarce breathe knowing she shall never be by my side? That I die a little bit inside for every moment that we are apart?" The mad declarations dwindled to a hoarse whisper, rough with pain. " That hope is lost without her? Nay, brother, I _must_ hide it. Even from you. To do otherwise would destroy me." 

"It already destorys you," Elrohir offered softly, pain wracking his voice. "Arwen would not--" 

"Why do you torment me?" Aragorn cried sharply in dismay, pain twisting his words, choking them. "Why must you speak of the one thing I have been trying all these years to bury, to forget; the one think that would take the heart of me? Why can't you leave me alone in my pain?" 

"You have been alone too long," Elrohir answered quietly. 

"It is all I can bear," Aragorn insisted. "It is all I have strength for. I have no hope. Let me be." 

"We do not want to torment you, little brother. We want to help you." 

The human went very still, seeming to not even breath, and longing flared briefly in his eyes. Then it was gone and Aragorn shook his head. "You cannot help me." He turned away and sank down onto the couch then dropped his head into his hands as if he no longer had the strength nor will to hold it up. Mayhap he did not. 

Elladan followed him and sank down beside the human; his hand rested on his back. "You will not let us." 

"There is nothing you can do." 

He removed the hand and reached into his robes. "Then maybe Father can help." He held an envelope over the human's shoulder and waited for him to take it. Slowly, the man did. 

A hesitant hand came up and snagged the paper. Aragorn turned it in his hands as if it would break, eyes avidly taking in the flowing script of Elrond on the front that spelled his name. Then he broke the seal and eased the folded paper from its envelope. The twins waited with baited breath as he read. 

_Dearest Estel,_

__

_Long has it been since I could address you thus, yet I can think of no way more fitting to ask your forgiveness: as a father of a son. I have wronged you more than words could possibly tell. It hurts more than I can say to know I am the cause of your pain, that it has been born through me._

__

_It is for that that I must beg your forgiveness now, knowing I do not deserve it. My son, forgive me your pain and know I never wished it, that my heart shuddered everytime I thought of what I asked of you. But my fear of losing Arwen was greater and I could not stop myself. Never in all my long years did I think you would deny her hand once it was held out for you, yet I feel I should have known. You were ever a son I was proud to call my own, always more concerned with the happiness of others than your own._

__

_I wish I had your strength, my son. I wish I could have denied my own pain and spared you your misery. I see too clearly now what I have done and I cannot bear it. Faced with my final journey, I find I cannot pass with this undone._

__

_Ever were you and Arwen meant to be. So much can I see now that time is almost done. My words have done such harm! But I would take them back if I could. I would erase them from your mind if such was within my power. But I cannot. _

__

_I was prepared, once, to offer you Arwen's hand. I would do it again without my hurtful words to cloud your judgement. If you love her still, I bid you ride for the havens with all haste and claim her hand. She will not heed my words where you are concerned, her heart too burdened with sorrow to be swayed by another's word. She can only be swayed by the one who holds her heart._

__

_Ride hard, my son, and claim what I should never have denied. _

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_With love always,_

__

_Elrond_

Elladan watched as tears sparkled in Aragorn's eyes and gathered to drip slowly down his cheeks unheeded. He moved closer and gripped his brother's forearm, squeezing gently in support. At the touch, the man looked up, the pain in his eyes nearer the surface yet not so deep. "Will you ride?" he asked, his eyes sympathetic yet intent. 

"She would have me?" Aragorn asked instead, looking more like a child than he had in decades, vulnerable. 

Elrohir stepped forward and dropped to his knees, drawing Aragorn's gaze. "She would, but you shall have to convince her that you love her still. Too well did you play your game for wounded heart to see the pain pain has caused. 

The man nodded slowly. "Then I will ride." 

Ere the passing of the morn, three riders departed the city in great haste. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Elrond stood on his balcony overlooking the road, Vilya glinting with the light that hit it as it edged past the trees, a beacon to draw others near. Blue eyes watched the only path intently, desperate to see the ones he knew could not reach him yet. Gondor was too far. 

Light footsteps approached, more an impression than anything tangilble, but it was enough and Elrond turned to look into clear blue eyes that pierced his thoughts and a face as radiant as the sun. "My Lady," he greeting with a respectful dip of his head. 

She returned the gesture and completed her approach, studying him a moment with her calm and knowing eyes, both soothing and irritating the elf lord. "You have decided, then" she said, voice as calm as her eyes. 

He nodded. "I should have made it long ago." 

"The heart is not so easy to convince as the mind, unrulable by laws or logic." 

"Yet I am supposed to be wise," Elrond commented, his gaze turned back to the road, contemplating his own words. 

A teasing smile ghosted about Galadriel's face. "Even the wisest cannnot see all ends." 

His eyes slanted towards her. "You saw." 

The Lady of the Golden Woods stared out about Rivendell, taking in the beauty of the land, and after a few moments, Elrond copied her, staring about him at the place he had called home and seeing it with new eyes after thousands of years. It was a changing land. 

"Celebrian loved it here," Galadriel offered suddenly, just as calm as ever. "Whenever I saw her, she spoke of nothing but the beauty of these woods, the peace of the land, the belonging she felt. And she spoke of you. Her eyes would light up with the brilliance of many suns, the stars held forever in her gaze. She sang, and I knew her heart would never waver." Her voice trailed off and Elrond knew she was seeing something from the past. 

She placed her hands lightly on the banister. "I saw the same again when Arwen came to Lothlorien, but she did not proclaim it. There was room for doubt. For me, doubt was erased when Elessar came to the Golden Wood, weary from travel and much toil. They could do much together, reclaim much that has been lost in the weary years of creeping darkness. It is up to them." 

"And we will not be around to see it." 

"The world is set for a new generation," she answered. "It is their time now." 

"All that remains if for them to take it," Elrond agreed, nodding. 

Galadriel glanced at him. "Their fates still balance on the edge of a knife. A stumble in weariness could undo all that has been done." Clear blue eyes gazed into his own. Elrond knew of what she spoke, and the apprehension that had settled in his stomach twisted tighter. She took a deep breath. "It is time to go." 

"Past time," Elrond agreed, voice low. 

"Yes, but I find myself desiring a lingering look at this land I have called home, ere I leave it forever. Would you mind overmuch, my lord, taking the scenic route?" 

"An easy thing to grant, my lady," he replied with a small smile. "Hopefully, it will be enough." 

Both cast a last glance at the road before turning and heading back to prepare for their journey. Elrond reached out with his thoughts, knowing he would find nothing. _Hurry, Estel_, he thought. _Time grows short._


	6. Am I the Only One

Hello everyone! I'm back. Sooner than you expected? *smiles* Well, I might have had this finished sooner if the first one I wrote hadn't been crap. Had to rewrite it. I just finished it, in fact. The title, Am I the Only One, is part of the title from a song by the Dixie Chicks. The complete title is Am I the Only One (Who's Ever Felt This Way?). I'm too tired to get the words and add them to the story, as they would just be tacked on to the end anyway, since they don't fit well enough to be put in the actual story. But that's where the title came from. Now. 

**Steph-h:** Mm, I don't think this chapter will help. 

**Mirax:** I'm glad you liked Elrond. I haven't quite decided how I'm going to write that part, so you may yet get your wish. It'll depend on what comes to me when I sit down and write it. And I wager I'll still be evil at the end of this chapter. Lol. 

**Grumpy:** Ooh, someone liked that part. I was afraid I screwed Galadriel up. Lol. She's so. . . . Words fail me. 

Now, don't kill me. Not yet. I'm getting to the meeting, really I am. And with any luck, it will be sooner rather than later. But until then, here's the next chapter. Read, enjoy, and review. They encourage me to write faster. Honest.****

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**Am I the Only One**

The days of travel stretched on, endless as the seasons that changed over the earth, passing on into the next but never gone. The sun would set and the moon would rise and they walked on, gaining on the havens but the destination too far gone to be seen. For this, Arwen was in agony. Never before had she been pulled so strongly in two directions, and the pain endured, cresting like the waves of the sea before subsiding to crest again, beating her back endlessly. 

She closed her eyes and swallowed thickly, letting the rocking motion of her horse's stride take over her, hoping to block out more than just her sight. Relief should have taken her, should have lifted her spirits; she had finally gained the one desire she had held since Aragorn had turned her away. She would leave and the pain would be gone. 

Light played across her closed eyelids, the golden glow alternating with empty darkness, cast as the sun played amid the trees, dancing with the leaves that shifted in the slight breeze and sparkled gold upon the elves that passed beneath them, the quiet melody of their song as haunting as it was beautiful; happy as it was regretful, the words joyful but tinged with sadness by the elven-fair voices that gave them light and kept time with the slow and steady pace of their journey. 

She should be relieved, yet every step closer to the Undying Lands clenched tighter at her heart. With every step, all she wanted to do was turn around and run, run as fast as she could manage back from whence she came, back through the years that had brought her here to Minas Tirith on that fateful day when her world had shattered, to throw herself into the arms of the only one who could ease her pain, the only one who never would, and knew she could not. Hers was an agony that could not be undone and could not be endured, shattering her heart with every step along the path she had chosen, away from the path of her heart. 

Dark blue eyes, as filled with pain as if all the heartache of all the world had been poured into those deep pools, opened to the world once more and took in the trees around her, graced by perfect light, and shuddered as she was borne backwards to a time and place of more happiness than she could imagine, all the more wounding because it had once been hers and now was gone. 

~*~ 

Laughter, bright and musical, rang through the trees, followed by fleet steps and the faintest patter of feet on soft ground, detectable by only the sharpest ears. It was followed by heavier feet, lighter than would be expected, chasing the faint signs of passage. Sharp eyes studied the ground, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. 

Aragorn crouched as the light prints he had been following seemed to disappear and ran his hand lightly over the ground, moving grass and leaves out of the way to get to the prints. He could fine none, however, and edged back to the last pair he had seen. Nimble fingers traced the impressions, measuring the depth. A small, victorious smile curved his lips and his eyes drifted up to the trees. He knew this trick; Legolas had used it on him often enough, leaving only the question of where the elf had gone. He thought he knew. 

Focusing his attention behind him, he stood and looked up into the trees, pretending to be carefully studying the boughs. Thus it was that he caught the whisper soft step behind him, followed by another. When they were right behind him, he turned and snatched Arwen around the waist, pulling her close to him before swinging her around. She laughed and clung to his arms as they spun, the trees rotating around their heads and streaks of sunlight dappled their hair and shoulders. 

Slowly, Aragorn brought them to a halt and Arwen opened eyes she had unconsciously closed, her face inches away from his and their eyes locked. She stared into his silver eyes, alight with happiness, and saw all the love and care she had ever hoped for. 

A calloused hand came up and gently cupped her cheek, his thumb softly caressing her bottom lip. "What grace brought me here?" he whispered. "What happy chance made you love me?" 

"The same that brought you to me," she answered. "The same that will see you to your destiny." 

His other hand came up, catching her firmly and serious eyes, cloudy with an emotion she could not quite name, regarded her closely. "Are you sure Arwen? Are you sure this doom is what you wish?" 

"Do you love me?" she asked instead, blue eyes fixed on his. 

"I will always love you," he declared. 

"Then have no doubt, my love. I cannot regret my choice." 

~*~ 

But she could regret what would never be, could regret the pain of her heart, could regret the pain their love, no matter how short or fruitless, had caused her father, now needless. No matter how hard she tried, though, she could not regret loving Aragorn, could not hate him for breaking her heart. 

Against her will, a crystal tear slipped down her cheek, soon followed by others she could not hold at bay. 

~*~*~*~*~*~* 

His hair was whipped back, torn away from his face by the force of his passage. His eyes were dark, a lightless gray, and his jaw was set in a grim line, his expression reminiscent of the one he had worn on the ride to the Pelannor fields in such haste during the War of the Ring, and it was not hard to name him determined. It was more difficult to name the emotion that hovered just behind the mask. 

On his mad dash in the opposite direction with a number of his kin along with Legolas and Gimli, he had masked fear. Fear that they would arrive too late, the battle completed before they could lend their aid. Fear that his friends would die, that he would be forced to say good-bye to more friends than had already been parted from him before their time. Fear that even if they arrived with help that it would not be enough, that despite all they had done Middle-earth would fall. 

Now he did not battle fear, though he was afraid, but pain. Behind the screen of duty, his mind writhed in agony, caused by his own hand, echoing words from the past. "Have no doubt. . . . Do you love me?" They cut through his mind, more painful than the joy they had caused, soured with time passed and hurtful words, words meant to wound. If he could have done one thing, he would have spared her the heart break he had caused. 

Aragorn pulled his steed up short, the action abrupt enough to make the horse rear and whinny in agitation, forcing Elladan and Elrohir to ride past him and come back. They looked at him in concern. "Aragorn, are you all right?" 

"What's wrong?" 

But the words of concern fell on deaf ears, warped beyond comprehension as the world twisted around him, growing dark, blocking all light until he stood in a dark void, empty of any happiness or hope. 

He had hurt her impardonably, shattered her heart in full knowledge of what he did. How could he dare show his face to her and ask for that same heart? How could he ask for her confidence, having already betrayed her? How could she love him after all he had done? 

The only answers he could find rooted him to his spot: he could not, she could not. He did not deserve her, had never deserved her, and was now even more worthless than he had been, unworthy of crawling before her, Evenstar of her people, to beg her squash him, and he dared ride to ask her hand? 

"I cannot," he murmured, unaware he spoke aloud. "I cannot." 

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged worried glances, unsure of what to do, about what had happened to so quickly transform hope to despair; unsure what to say to reach the man when their words had thus far gone unheeded. Elrohir edged closer to Aragorn, noting he had started back away, catching the horse's reins in his hands. When the horse prepared to bold, lead by its master's hand, Elrohir held him firm. 

He could not face her. He wrenched the reins around to return to Minas Tirith, but was pulled up short. Wild eyes, wide in incomprehensible pain, turned back, looking for what held him, bound him in his torment, and fell on his brother. "Let me go," he said after swallowing so he could force the words past uncooperative lips. 

"Speak to us, brother," Elladan pleaded, moving closer so he could grasp the human's arm. "Tell us what ails you." 

Aragorn stared at him, eyes blank. There were no words for his pain. How could he admit his wretchedness to the kin of his beloved? Yet another thing he could not do; the weakness he had feared manifest to doom those he loved more than life itself, more than he could claim. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly, and he was forced to helplessly shake his head, bereft of words. 

Both elves studied Aragorn's face intently, looking for answers to the questions the young man refused to speak. Elrohir found the answer first. "Do not despair, Estel, and do not fear the worst," he bid. "Many are the battles that would have been lost if those who had fought in them had simply decided to go home instead of fight because the battle was already lost." 

"Do not fear Arwen's rejection," Elladan chimed in, catching his twin's trail of thought. "Do not despair of the night before the day has gone. You know not what she will say or do." 

Aragorn resumed shaking his head, the movement slow and steady, as unchanging as the man was in battle, forcing the twins to wonder how their adopted brother could be so sure of his stand yet so hesitant about trusting love. "I do not deserve her," he said. 

Elrohir sighed. "It is not about whether or not you deserve her," he said, exasperation tingeing his words. 

"It is about whether or not you love her," Elladan continued, fixing a steady stare on the younger being before him. "Do you love Arwen?" 

"More than anything," Aragorn replied without hesitation. 

"Then tell her," pressed the elder twin. 

"But--" 

"No, no buts," Elrohir interrupted, cutting off the human. "You made the decision to reject her. You decided it would not work. You decided she could not possibly love you because you are human, weak, doomed, what have you. You decided, Estel. What did Arwen decide?" He stared silently for a moment into pained silver eyes before Aragorn glanced away, then he continued. "She decided to love you, despite all your flaws and hesitations, despite all your troubles and burdens, and all the differences that lay between you. She decided to trust you and bind herself to you. She decided to spend the rest of your life together and you took that away, broke two hearts for no reason." 

Aragorn did not speak, did not look at them, so Elladan picked up where his twin left off. "Do not be stubborn, Estel. Do not let pride or fear get in the way. Do not bear a burden you do not need. Cast aside doubt. Only Arwen can answer your heart's desire, and the only way you can gain it is to ask. Fearing an answer you may not receive is pointless. Cast it aside." 

The human finally looked at them, weariness in his worldly gaze. "It is not so simple," he denied, but the words were rote, spoken from a script that was long out of date. He had decided, Elrohir was right, and even Elrond had to a certain extent. What had Arwen decided? She had decided to fight for their love, to persue it against all opposition, and what had he done but thrown away all her efforts as if they meant nothing the moment their time was at hand. 

"It is as simple as you make it," Elladan stated. The elves stared at him, waiting, feeling the weight of time ticking down around them, pressing harder against their chances of success. Still, they waited. 

Yes, Arwen had held more faith than he had, had denied the darkness when he had faltered. She had been borne along by his decisions, carried along without a say by his whims. No more. If nothing else, she deserved the chance to make the choice, her choice. She deserved to know he loved her, wanted to be with her, and would stand by her if she so chose. She deserved to stand where he had stood, all the power of decision in his hand, her happiness his to decide, his to kill; she deserved the opportunity to stand before him and tell him he was not worthy and leave him alone to his broken heart. 

She deserved it, and if it was the last thing he would ever do, he would see that she got it. 


	7. Miles to Go

Hi all! I can actually post sooner than I was expecting. Yay! I didn't think I'd be able to get this posted until tomorrow, but I have it up and ready and a little time, so you get it now. *g* 

Um, the title is take from Celine Dion's Miles to Go (Before I Sleep) but has no connection to the song. I've been using song titles since the beginning, so I saw no reason to stop now even if I can't find a song I like to fit the story. 

So many reviews.... 

**Steph-h:** You jinxed it. *smiles slowly* Just kidding, I actually can't tell you whether you jinxed it or not. It would ruin the surprise. 

**QueenElessar:** Thank you. Hope you enjoy this next chapter. 

**Gionareth:** lol. He's got the idea now. Honest. 

**Mirax:** I'm so glad you loved the flashback. Hm, yes, Arwen does know what she wants, and Aragorn knows what he wants, and neither is particularly sure what the other wants. *g* My, how confusing. I have this chapter and the next one written, but am now stuck for the one after that. Lol. But so long as I keep getting lovely reviews *smiles meaningfully* I will definitely finish this story.****

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**Taraisilwen:** Wow. I'm glad you liked Elrond's letter and that you thought the flashback was romantic. I've always felt I was rather bad at romance. On that thought, I don't know why I started this. Lol. Oh, that's right. I didn't. My reviewers did. I started the angst. Lol. 

**Grumpy:** He could actually likely stand to stop a little more often for longer, as this chapter will show, but you're right about Arwen not waiting forever! *g* 

**Daniela:** Hi! It was good to hear from you, and I'm glad you're enjoying both stories. *looks sheepish* I'm really bad about checking my yahoo account, but I wasn't ignoring you. Aragorn and Arwen will....finally be meeting again soon. We'll see what happens then. *g* 

Okay, okay! *jumps up and down excitedly* Review fast so I can post the next chapter. I won't post it until I get reviews, but it's written so I can post it at any time. So review, and find out what happens next. *bites bottom lip nervously* I think you'll like it.****

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****So come on. Read. Review. Please?****

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**Miles to Go**

The days turned weeks of hard riding had not been kind to Aragorn. They stopped seldom for rest and even less for food, traveling as far and as fast as the horses could stand, halting only so long as need dictated. At Rohan they had gained fresh steeds to allow theirs rest and been gone before the hour passed. None had questioned and none had hindered, perhaps in awe, perhaps in fear. 

Indeed, any who looked upon the trio was sure to fear for the riders, for neither had the elves escaped the cruelty of the ride. Dirt and dust covered all three, hair matted and tangled, clothing as filthy as beggars. Dark circles hovered under their eyes from deprived sleep, though none was so dark as those around the king's eyes; sleep had eluded him long before their journey west. None were sure what kept him going, kept him riding as strength had to be failing, yet his pace never flagged and his step never faltered. 

His mouth was set in a grim line, his face as pale as death, covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyes focused straight ahead. They burned with a fire that could not be named hope, could not be named happiness, fueled by a desire to complete his task that knew no reason and no limits, no bounds, and left no room for failure. Not even on the Paths of the Dead had so little touched him, so few necessities slowed his step. 

No human had tread a harder road than Aragorn, no one borne such burdens as he placed on his shoulders; no other could have made the same journey with the same speed, yet Elladan and Elrohir feared for him. They feared this journey would prove too much for the strength of man and he would fall, would fail in this quest where he had obviously decided failure was intolerable. Still, they did not try to dissuade him, knowing it would be futile. The only thing they could do was stand near and be ready to catch him when strength failed. 

They prayed all they could do was enough. 

*~*~*~*~* 

The troupe of elves traveling to the Gray Havens halted at the edge of the last forest for the night and made camp. It was to be a feast, and the elves went about their tasks, gathering and preparing what was needed. 

Arwen, not really aware of her surroundings, was the last among the mounted company to dismount, and she slid of the back of the noble while steed as if she were in a dream, then wandered over to one of the trees at the edge of camp and sank to the floor, her gaze focused unseeing on the expanse before her. Her eyes were of the deepest blue and touched with the silver of the moon, overlarge in her pale, drawn face, her full lips, usually so quick to smile, lacked a hint of curve that would proclaim she still knew how. 

Not a twitch disturbed her still form where it sat. 

The world kept moving around Arwen while she stayed still. Dinner was made and the feast joined and not a soul disturbed her. She was grateful for the solitude, the chance to not think. Her mind had finally grown silent, too weary from all the pain to run in circles any longer, and had left her to drift, unfocused on anything that happened around her, the actions seen but unmarked, words spoken yet unacknowledged. 

Had a man or orc walked up to her with a blade, intent on killing her, she would not have noticed. Had news of grave importance touched her ears, she would not recall it. She existed, but was not a part of the world. That was how she wanted it. That was where she felt no pain. 

*~*~*~*~* 

The only sound that reached his ears was the same sound that had touched him for days uncounted: the thunder of hooves over hard ground. It rose and fell as they rode but never left. It disappeared when they stopped, sometimes at night, sometimes during day, and he found no sleep. 

Thought had left him, driven away by a fatigue he had never known, held at bay by a fire he had never felt. He rode by instinct, his body intimately aware of the path he tread across lands he had called home in the absence of leading thought. 

Only one thing consumed him, one thought that allowed him to chase away all weariness and allowed him to continue on. He had to reach Arwen before she crossed the sea. He had to reach her. 

The necessity of the task drove him, echoing through his mind, controlling all functions that had any use. There was nothing and no one outside that task. 

Aragorn had not the strength for more. 

*~*~*~*~* 

The fire burned cheerily as the elves continued their feast, and the stars shone brightly in the night sky. Apart from the festivities, Elrond stood with Galadriel, quietly contemplating the unmoving figure by the tree, their thoughts passing behind closed minds and sorrow visible only through the pain in their eyes. It was difficult to watch someone usually so full of life degenerate to an empty husk. It was worse for Elrond as he knew the culprit to be his own hand. 

Well did he remember Celebrian's pain, the withering of her spirit after her torture at the hands of orcs and the pain the poison had caused her soul. He remembered how listless she had become, how her eyes had dulled, how she had found no solace even in the comfort of his arms. He remembered the pain in his heart when he realized there was nothing more he could do for her but let her go. 

That was what he saw now, this time in his daughter, and the pain was unbearable. He was responsible and had nearly realized it too late: In trying to protect her from pain, had had caused her worse torment. 

"We near the end," he murmured finally. "My heart misgives me that they may yet arrive too late." 

"There is yet time," Galadriel countered softly. "It grows short but the days are not yet gone." 

He nodded, though the elf-maiden was not watching. He knew that, knew the truth of the words, yet it eased his heart to hear them from someone wiser than himself. He looked back at his daughter, too pale even without the moonlight, her eyes empty of all emotion. "Do you think it will work?" The elder elf looked at him. "Do you think he can call back her spirit?" 

"Do you think he can?" Galadriel countered, placing a faint emphasis on "you." 

His blue eyes were dark as he stared past his daughter towards Gondor, hoping against hope to see three figures approaching. He had often looked thus when he was not busy watching his Evenstar, lamenting her pain. When he spoke, his voice was soft, "I fear it is already too late." 

"Yet you ever watch for his arrival." 

"I hope it is not." 

Galadriel's eyes were grave when he turned back to look at her. "Arwen is stronger than you think, Elrond, gifted with her mother's spirit . . . and her father's will." 

The silence that followed was incomplete, waiting, and it took him a moment to recognize the words for what they were: a jibe. Long years had it been, but he could still recall the conversation he had overheard so many centuries before, ages earlier when he had been young, between Celeborn and Celebrian--about him. . . . 

_"I do not want you to marry him, my daughter," the elf lord said._

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_"It is my heart," Celebrian replied, "not yours, and I may give it to whomever I will."_

__

_The dark look that passed from father to daughter was evident in the heavy silence that followed, then, "But only I can give your hand."_

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_"Father--"_

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_"Enough. His will is too strong, to unbendable. I will not have you fall victim to his whims, be smothered and broken."_

__

_"By any other than yourself, you mean," Celebrian retorted, ice in her voice that he had never heard before. Her light footsteps sounded across the ground and she continued before Celeborn, too surprised by the chill of her voice to quickly register the words, could retort. Fury burned in her words. "You cannot control me, Father. My heart is my own, as is my life. You would break my heart for power?"_

__

_"This isn't about power," Celeborn retorted hotly, his voice barely under control. "This is about your protection. I love you too much to let just any man have you."_

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_"And I love Elrond. Don't you trust my judgment, Father? Don't you trust _me?_"_

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_"I do not trust _him._"_

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_"That is not what you said before you knew our intentions," she said, the hint of a smile evident in her voice._

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_A sigh drifted on the wind, and the elf lord's voice softened. "I don't want to see you hurt."_

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_"Elrond will not hurt me, Ada. And I will still be here. You will not lose me."_

__

_There was more silence and Elrond did not dare to breath. Then Celeborn spoke. "I will consider it," he said. "But Elrond will have to prove himself worthy."_

__

_Galadriel's laugh drifted out to him, surprising him as he had not known she was there. "Oh, I'm sure he will, my love. He is very strong-will, you know."_

A smile tugged at his lips as he recalled that conversation, and what had happened after, amusement and old pain curling though him, oddly welcome as he sought to find solace. He remembered being terrified at the prospect of meeting Celebrian's parent (never mind that he had already known Celeborn), and now wondered if Aragorn had felt the same fear when he had spoken of his love for Arwen to him. He would have to remember to ask him before he left. If he arrived. . . . 

"Aragorn was certainly not left out, either." 

He glanced, surprised, at the Lady of the Golden Woods, and she answered the unspoken question while staring off towards the fire. "His forefathers would certainly be proud. Namely, one from long ago that I seem to remember looking disturbingly like you." 

With that, and a quick smile back in his direction, she glided away in the direction of the fire, Celeborn just finishing up a conversation with an old friend, and left Elrond once more alone with his troubled thoughts. 

*~*~*~*~* 

A few days later, too few by some reckoning, the soft lap of water on the shore could be heard, carried on the gentle breeze that cooled their faces and brought hints of the sea. Peace welled up inside the elf lord, but peace could not overwhelm nor displace the despair that engulfed him in the wake of the hope he had held onto as he realized time was truly up and Aragorn had not come. 

He closed his eyes against the pain, and resisted the urge to simply stop. It had been a gamble in the first place, a desperate act in waning days with little hope of success, and there had never been a guarantee that Aragorn would come. Why, then, did it feel as if the world had shattered around him and broken him with it? 

Because he had wanted to see Arwen smile again. Because he had wanted Arwen to not leave Middle-earth behind as a memory of pain. Because he had not wanted to leave with silence between him and his foster son, possibly leaving the boy thinking Elrond had been angry with him until the end of his days. Because he had wanted all to be well when he left Middle-earth, and that could not happen with Gondor's king withering from heartbreak. 

He opened his eyes, hearing delighted cries as the other elves with them realized their destination was near and picked up their pace slightly to reach it faster. He let them, and did not alter his pace to keep up with them, though he did slow down when he did not see his daughter. Her sad form slowly passed him as she rode forward, her head lowered in sorrow, salt tears dripping slowly down her cheeks. No matter how much she had been wishing for this day, her heart did not want to leave. 

Elrond's heart broke afresh. 

She continued on towards the last stand of trees that guarded the pass to the Havens and he followed reluctantly, feeling as if he had failed everyone. With a heavy heart, he resigned himself to returning to Celebrian with sad news, and dropped his head in pain and shame. 

That was when he heard it, the rapid tattoo of quickly closing horse hooves, and stopped, looking back. He scanned the area behind him quickly, searching for the source of the sounds, and was startled by how close the riders were when he did find them, a phenomenon easily explained when he realized Aragorn was still riding headlong, weaving through the scattered trees that blocked his path, heedless of danger. 

He glanced back towards the Havens in time to see Arwen reach the trees as the human cried out. 

"Arwen!" 


	8. If That's What It Takes

Hi everybody! I debated back and forth on whether or not to post this today, and, luckily or unluckily for you, I decided to do it. You may not thank me later, but the best things come with risk. *g* You all reviewed so quickly, so this is your reward. Mayhap if you review just as quickly, I will manage to get the next chapter written quickly. *g* 

This song title is from Celine Dion's Falling Into You CD. I don't think it works all that well, but the song would only get in the way regardless, so it's not here. Anyway, just so you know. 

**Daisy:** Yes, aren't they. *smiles brilliantly* Thanks. 

**Gionareth:** Hm, torture the readers, a new idea. Not entirely my aim. Hehe. This is soon. *g* 

**Steph-h:** lol. Well. Does that mean you liked it? 

**Mirax:** lol, well, if you knew where I was, it wouldn't be hard to find. Everything's all in the same place to make posting easier. Who said Elrond doesn't think more about his twin? Can't have the thoughts if they have no relevance to the fic, you know. *g* lol. Wait til you see how I finished this one. You'll likely be all day thinking about it anyway, but here it is. I hope you get it before tomorrow. *smiles* 

**Grumpy:** Yep, too much to hope that he cleaned up. Far too much. And you forgot a qualifier. Tired. And here it is, ready and waiting. Wish I could say the same _next_ chapter, but maybe by this time tomorrow, I'll be able to. *g* 

Okay, everybody. Have fun. Read, enjoy, review. Get posts sooner. I need your inspiration for this one. *g* lol. Remember how reviews get posts quicker? They also help me write faster. . . .****

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**If That's What It Takes**

Arwen continued forward slowly, her gaze fixed before her so she would not be tempted to stay, would not risk causing her father more pain than he felt already. But all her good intentions failed when she heard a familiar sound approaching quickly through the trees. Thinking perhaps to see her brothers, she turned. 

"Arwen!" 

For a suspended moment, she felt nothing; no pain, no happiness, no sorrow, no emotion at all. Aragorn was once more before her, followed distantly by the twins, and the protective wall around her dissolved, destroyed in a confused rush of emotions that plunged her into icy pain. Unable to bear looking at him, she turned away. 

"Arwen, wait!" he cried, nearer now, but she could not. 

Aragorn pulled his steed up abruptly when he was near her and slid off his horse's back before the creature had even come to a complete stop. He stumbled forward on legs that refused to hold his weight, then dropped to his knees and tried one last plea to get her to wait. "Tinuviel! Please. . . ." He waited with baited breath as the pure white steed the elf-maiden rode eased to a stop, and the lady from his dreams turned slowly to face him. 

Arwen closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. That name, he had to use that name. Against her will, she turned to face him, unable to resist the desperate call that had started everything, for better or worse. When she did, her eyes fell on a pathetic sight. Before her, the proud king of men stood on his knees, heedless of the dirt that now marred his clothes, already rumpled and dirty from hard riding, chest heaving with heavy breaths, face pale enough to be a wraith and marred with black half-moons beneath his eyes. But it was his eyes that held her, avid silver, as sure as she had ever seen them, pleading she wait. 

In the back of her mind, she was aware of Elladan and Elrohir coming up at a saner pace behind the human, and of her father standing nearby, but she never moved her eyes from Aragorn, and he never dropped his gaze from hers. Her mind screamed at her to turn and continue, leave him in the dirt, but she could not. With a weariness she could not remember having felt before, she slid from her horse and stood before him. Then she lifted her chin, and waited. 

Relief flooded through him when he saw Arwen slide to the ground and face him. He knew elven etiquette well enough to know he had been given permission to come closer and address her. He tried to stand, but he had pushed his body too hard for too long and had not the strength to lift him. His legs trembled beneath him but would not propel him up. The man sensed movement behind him and knew one of his brothers were likely coming to help him up, but he did not want help; he had not needed it to hurt Arwen. Swallowing the last of his pride, he began to crawl. 

Arwen drew in a startled breath when Aragorn did not rise, but instead rocked forward and began to make his way towards her on his hands and knees, an action she could not imagine from him, one she knew had to bruise his pride terribly. Surprised gasps and quiet murmurs behind her told her that the other elves had returned to see what was wrong when neither Elrond nor Arwen continued in after them. 

Aragorn never faltered, nor looked up, merely continued his slow path and Arwen was seized with the urge to stop him, to force him to his feet and halt this degredation. But pain rooted her to her spot and she did not move. Breathing hard, she looked down at him when he stopped barely two feet before her and eased back up on his knees. 

The space between him and Arwen seemed to grow, but Aragorn refused to stop and admit defeat. So when he heard the gasps of others, he did not glance up lest his courage fail him and defeat be his before the battle was even over. He needed to tell her he loved her, that he always ahad, and though he still did not know how to say it, he had to make her understand the truth before she left. 

He saw her feet before his eyes and stopped, slowly rocking back to his knees so he could look up into her lovely face and stare into her deep blue eyes. The silvery streaks of tears down her cheeks and the sorrow in her eyes did nothing to detract from her beauty, merely make it more heart-wrenching to behold, and words would not come. Silence stretched between them. 

Arwen found her voice first, the silence too much for her to bear on top of everything else. "Speak, good King," she bid, her voice not quite steady as she clasped slightly trembling hands before her. 

His mouth opened and closed, then he inched forward and spread his hands as if helpless. "I'm sorry, Arwen," he began. She just blinked. "I am so very sorry. I hurt you. I'm sorry I drove you away. I'm sorry I'm weak and stupid and foolish and Edain. Sorry I can't give you everything you deserve." He blinked back tears rapidly and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry you loved me, that we came between you and your father, that you feel such pain because of me. I'm sorry paain is your reward for caring, for loving, a mortal." He paused and took a deep breath, seeming to brace himself for a difficult task, then continued a bit slower, mostly calm. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your journey, sorry to be keeping you here in pain, but I could not let you leave until I told you. . . ." 

"Told me what?" she asked, her tone no different than Aragorn's had been when the twins had brought her up back at the palace. 

And like the twins, had to pause a moment before answering, but not for the same reasons. He had not expected she would let him continue and had to re-order his thoughts. He licked his lips nervously before speaking. "Told you that I love you." 

Arwen stared at him, the words slicing through her heart with a double-edged sword of happiness and pain. Her eyes narrowed, anger over-riding both. "You love me," she repeated, her voice level with a hint of danger behind her tone. Most would have cowered, but Aragorn already had nothing else to lose and expected the worse she could give. 

He did not so much as blink, and confirmed, "I love you." 

For a moment, she stood still, like the words meant nothing to her, then something in her snapped and fury coursed throug her. "You don't love me!" she cried. "You never did. If you loved me, you would not have pushed me away. You would not have acted like we meant nothing! If you loved me, you would have married me." 

"Without a second thought," he answered. She turned then and stalked away, her face set. Painfully, unsteadily, Aragorn forced himself to his feet and followed her, stumbling as he did so. "I would give you anything you desire." 

Arwen stopped and turned back to face him, a strange expression on her face as she took in the wavering man before her. "Anything?" 

"Anthing that is within my power to give," he said. His eyes focused on the blue that stared back at him so intently, and his heart quivered at the thought of what she might ask. He waited, struggling to keep his legs from dropping him to the ground. If he fell, he did not think he would be able to get back up. 

"If I asked you to go," she said, "if I asked you to leave and never return, would you go?" 

Tears threatened, tears he had not cried except in sleep, and he blinked them back furiously. "Yes." 

She stared at him, measuring his sincerity and found nothing but honest conviction. Part of her wanted to do just that, pay him back for all the pain, but another part wanted nothing more than to pull hi into her arms and never let go, content to stay that way forever. Like before, she did neither. Instead, she spoke. "Then tell me why." 

"Why I would leave?" 

She shook her head, furious at the tears that gathered in her eyes but unable to stop them. "Why you made me leave." 

His eyes closed slowly, regret and pain written all over his face, and when he opened his eyes, they were filled with shame. "I couldn't let you stay," he admitted, his voice falling to just above a hoarse whisper, but al lthe elves gathered heard his response clearly. "I convinced myself I knew what was best for us and everyone. I was afraid." 

Aragorn searched her face, looking for relief, rejection, disgust, any sign that what he had said meant something, but her expression never changed, her stance never shifted. The only thing that changed was the addition of unwilling curiosity to his deep blue eyes. He knew he had to tell her the truth, the complete truth. He owed her that much for putting her through hell, no matter what everyone thought of him when he was done. 

"I was afraid of hurting you," he elaborated after a moment, ahd her averted his eyes, unable to look at her when she laughed bitterly. He stared off through the trees, but he was looking back. "I've always been afraid of losing you, Arwen. There was only two things I was sure of from the beginning: that I loved you, and I don't deserve to have you. When you loved me back, I felt I had stepped into a dream, that I could do anything and anything was possible. And in the back of my mind, far away where no one could see, I always feared I would wake up and know the dream to be a lie, or that you would wake and realize I was nothing to trouble over. 

"When your father bid me think of you and let you return with your people, let you go, love fought. And pride, stubborn pride. It hurt too much to let you go, but doubts are insidious things, fair Undomiel, and I had plenty. You never shoud have loved me. I let that thought persuade me that it was wrong, that Lord Elrond was right an dyou were better off with your people. I could never give you all that you deserve. . . ." He trailed off, his eyes searching out blue once more before he made this last confession, and was surprised to find tears streming down her cheeks, though her expression remained as set as ever. "I could never love you as someone better could." 

Arwen stared at the man before her, her mind slower in drawing conclusions than her body, which trembled slightly, and she brough a delicate hand up to cover her mouth. All these years, and he was telling her he still loved her? That he had never stopped? Was he telling her it did not have to be thus, and they could go back and made this nothing more than a terrible nightmare? Not sure what to think, she turned confused eyes on her father. 

Seeing her gaze on him, he smiled encouragingly and walked towards her until he could wrap her up in a hug, his chin resting atop her head. Elladan stepped forward and caught Aragorn's arm, helping him stand when he would have fallen, and he shifted so he could talk in her ear. "My Evenstar," he murmured. "I am so sorry for my part in this horrid mess. If it was mine to do over again, I pray I would have the strength to leave it alone and let you have your dreams." He paused. "Do not think ill of Estel, Arwen," he bid softly, "for he was stronger than I. He let you go when I could not, though it tore his heart asunder." 

With that, Elrond stepped back so he could view his dauther's face. "And if you are willing, I think there is something he would ask you." 

She turned to look at Aragorn, and the man stepped forward, pulling away from Elladan until he stood before her, his hands held palm up before him as he stared into her eyes. When she placed her hands lightly in his, he clasped them lightly in his, then spoke formally. "I beg thee not send me from thy side." 

She nodded, unable to find her voice, granting him permission to stay. Then, he surprised her by sinking to his knees, never removing his eyes from hers. 

"My Lady, were it in my power I would gift you the stars, but you already hold them in your sway. If I could, I would gift you unending happiness, fullfill your ever dream, and never make you sad. As it is, I can only do everything in my power to try and deserve the faith you placed in me so long ago, and hope I can give you even half the happiness you have given me. I would have the opportunity to please you forever, but I only have the span of my life." He took a deep, calming breath, then caught her eyes even more firmly than before. 

"Arwen Undomiel, Evenstar, fairest of the all the lands, will you grant me, Aragorn Elessar, the gift of your hand in marriage, and join me in life . . . and in death?" 


	9. I Want It That Way

Hi all! Here's the next chapter, and I have both good news and bad news. Which do you want first? *winces* 

Bad news first. This chapter does not end the madness. Now, wait! Wait. Listen to the good news. I have the next chapter all ready to go as soon as everyone reviews. I'm also half-way through the chapter after that, which will hopefully be completed tomorrow or the day after at the latest.This title is from the Backstreet Boys. 

**Grumpy:** Um, I'm gonna take a guess that you might want to keep the kleenex handy. *g*****

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**Gionareth:** Hem, is that a bad thing? *looks anxious* 

**Mirax:** I'm glad, I'm sorry, and I can. Lol. Faint? No, no fainting, though his body would likely thank him if he did. If I really wanted to be mean, I could, but I'm not that mean. Really. 

**Steph-h:** Um, yes, I would, but these things take time. *g* And I did notice. But the ending is in sight. Mine, at least. 

**Daisy:** I rather fancy the crawling part myself. *smiles widely* Desperate people do such interesting things. 

Um, okay, just to let you know, this is Mirax's fault. *smiles at Mirax* She mentioned wanting some anger at Elrond. I had another chapter written that ended all this torture all written and ready to go, then had to re-write it. *g* The flip side is that I did not like it and would have re-written it anyway. I like this way better. 

So, quick review: read+review=faster updates. =D Now enjoy!****

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****Oh, and I took the flashback directly from the Two Towers. Sorry about that, but once I got the idea in my head, I couldn't get rid of it. I hope it doesn't ruin the story. But, thus, the dialogue (monologue by Elrond, I mean) is not mine. Now, onto the chapter.****

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**I Want It That Way**

Arwen blinked, thrown by the question. No matter how she had wished for it, how she had hoped to hear those words spoken by this man, she had not thought to hear them. She had been too busy dreaming to expect the dream to come true and could only stare at the human, her lips slightly parted in surprise. 

She was elated, her heart soaring, her mind crying out in exultation, but did not reach her expression, her body standing still even as she wished to spin and cry her joy to the heavens. In that endless moment when everything was still, no darkness could intrude on her happiness. 

Then her mind flashed back to the last time she had been in this position, when she was the one eagerly anticipating their union, and her joy dimmed. Remembering Aragorn's eyes, she found it difficult to convince herself she stood before the same man. His eyes had been so hard, closed as she had never seen them, and her heart quailed at the thought that this man, the one who stood so hopefully, could be but a passing phase. She could not bear the thought that she could wake up one day and find herself once again alone. She blinked and licked her lips nervously, then glanced at her father. What he had said flashed through her mind, taking her back to that day, that dreadful day when she had feared Aragorn would never return and hoped to gain everything she had dreamed of. 

~*~ 

She sat on the low bed, the curtains, light and sheer, billowing in the light breeze from outside, the light showing through them cast a bluish tint on everything in the room, and her eyes traced the path her father walked towards one of the far windows looking out over Imladris, her words of hope seeming to die in the air between them. It was cruel of them to fade before her even as she grasped at them, holding desperately to that light as Elrond put voice to the fears in her heart. 

"If Aragorn survives this war, you will still be parted. If Sauron is defeated and Aragorn made King, and all that you hope for comes true, you will still have to taste the bitterness of mortality." 

Against her will, images seemed to appear before her eyes, heralded by a strange wind, pushing her to a different time, giving testament to her father's words even as she was barely aware that he continued to speak. 

"Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time, Aragorn will die." 

Blinding white light flashed before her eyes, eliminating her room and forcing her to blink. When she opened them, she stood beside pyre, gazing down at the aged yet still handsome visage of Aragorn, eyes forever closed in death, laid out in fine maroon robes trimmed in braided gold to match her dress. She leaned forward and rested a hand upon his breast, automatically feeling for the pulse that was not there and would never be there again. 

"And there will be no comfort for you, no comfort to ease the pain of his passing." 

She gasped quietly, desperate for air that her grief denied, the pain strangling, and she fought against the tears that so wanted release, her bottom lip quivering slightly. She did not notice the faint breeze that teased her headdress, nor the grieving couple that passed her by, too focused was she on the face that would never smiles for her again, never look at her with love and tenderness, the grief a storm rising up inside her, threatening to break her and fling her to pieces. 

And still her father spoke. "He will come to death, an image of the splendor of the Kings of Men, in glory undimmed before the changing of the world." 

Time seemed to pass before her eyes, and the splendor of Minas Tirith faded though she could not tell if that was true or if it was her own eyes that painted the land thus, seen through grief that did not fade and destroyed by pain. 

Aragorn still lay before her, carved from stone, forever to be remembered by the people who loved him, out of reach of the one who loved him. She stood, a silent sentinel dressed in black, relying on her sheer black veil to hide her grief from those who could never understand it. 

She felt she had died a hundred times, yet still walked the earth. She wished for death when she lay down, tears slipping from her cheeks as the emptiness inside was mirrored by the emptiness beside her, and still she lingered on, her pain in grief matched only by her disappointment each time she woke to find she had yet to fade. 

The crown she yet wore weighed heavily on her spirit, and her father's voice still drifted to her ears. "But you, my daughter. You will linger on, in darkness and in doubt, as night fall in winter that comes without a star. Here you will dwell, bound to your grief," and she was back in Lothlorien, wandering the forests around her home. Alone, all alone, "under the fading trees. Until all the world is changed and all the long years of your life are utterly spent." 

Then, just as it had come, it had gone, but the grief it left behind was not so easily vanquished and a tear slipped down her cheek, others pooled in her deep blue eyes, ready to follow. She was only distantly aware of the elven lord turning to face her once more and wondered if he knew what he did, the pain he caused her with his words, wondered if it was worth it to feel such pain. 

"Arwen." She gasped, startled back into herself with the call of her name. "There is nothing for you here. Only death." 

The rest of her tears, long held at bay, slipped past her lashes, and she slowly turned her eyes towards her father, her lip quivering as she struggled to hold back the sobs that wanted release with her tears. with her eyes, she pleaded with him to tell her he was wrong, to take it all back and say everything would be well, that her love of Aragorn could still be. 

He did none of it, and she watched hopelessly as he approached, tearful eyes meeting his as he sat beside her, his gentle hand brushing her hair back from her face. And in her native tongue, he asked, "Do I not also have your love?" his eyes pleading with her not to leave him. 

Drained, she had not the strength left to deny him. 

~*~ 

She closed her eyes, pressing the memory back. It was hard to believe that what she had fought so hard for was here, placed before her on his knees, offering the one thing she had wanted more than anything, only to find herself hesitating. A decade ago, she would not have given the matter a second thought, had not spared a single consideration for the thought that perhaps their marriage was not to be. 

Ten years ago, her heart had still been whole, undamaged by the grief of betrayal. But that was not true any more, and her mind strayed down a path she had not dared to dread, leading inexorably to a conclusion she did not want to admit, did not want to acknowledge: her father was right. 

A shaky breath loosed the air that had become trapped in her lungs, and she forced her eyes to refocus on the man before her, to take in his eyes and his face, his lips, his hands, to deny her heart and tell her love what she knew she had to say. 

She felt numb, but this could not be put off. She opened her mouth, and her lip quivered even as her voice did. "I cannot." Startled gasps threw her but she plowed on, still staring into silver eyes, and pulled her hands from his. "Once we were meant to be; this is not then." She struggled with herself to say more, to bid him not take her denial to heart, but no words came, and all she could manage was, "I'm sorry." 

Then she turned and did the only thing she could think of. She ran. 

*~*~*~*~* 

Aragorn did not move, merely watched her leave, his mind barely registering her departure through the pain of his wounds. His eyes stared, unseeing, searching about him for what he could not find, would never find again. He was cast adrift, cut loose in a storm of his own making without any means to find safe harbor. There was nowhere to go. Once, by his own hand had nearly overwhelmed him. Twice was too much for him to bear. 

He had thought he was prepared, thought he could handle her rejection and gracefully bow out, let her continue on her chosen path and return to where he had been, no worse for the wear but sure he had done the right thing. Now, too late, he realized that the right thing was what he had not done, and that he could never go back again. 

Slowly, he slumped forward, his forearms resting on the ground, crossed before him as the crazy determination that had sustained him gave way and his strength failed. His head sank down to rest on his crossed wrists and di not move. In the pain that followed, he found he did not even have the strength to cry. He simply was. 

*~*~*~*~* 

Elrond's mouth hung open in surprise as he stared at the empty space where his daughter had stood just moments before, unable--or unwilling--to comprehend what had just happened. 

He had thought he had known what would happen, but he had not expected this. Of all the scenarios he and the twins had feared--that they would arrive too late, that Aragorn would not come--they had never dreamed that Arwen would deny her heart and push Aragorn away. It was a cruel reversal of fortune. 

He glanced over at Elladan and Elrohir and found similar expressions of shock on their faces, their sister's actions a surprise to them as well, though that was no comfort to him. He had a feeling he knew what this was about, and his heart sank. 

Hesitantly, his gaze swung around the other way and focused on Galadriel. She alone of the company did not look surprised, and not for the first time he wondered what truly passed behind those fathomless eyes of hers that seemed to see all and show naught. Her eyes stared sadly off into the distance, tracing the path Arwen had run, away from them and away from the sea. 

Galadriel felt his gaze and turned to face him, her eyes sharpening. "Go after her," he heard in his mind, the elf-maiden's crystal blue eyes burning into his from across the way. 

Still in shock, he did the only thing he could do: he went. 


	10. Back to Your Heart

*steps out hesitantly* Hi, everybody. I'm really sorry this is posted so late. The sad thing is I've had it written for three days, I just couldn't find the time to finish typing it up. But since I don't have to get up for school tomorrow, I can be a bad girl and stay up to type this and get it out to you. The good news is that if you continue to review so well, I can get the next chapter out to you quite quickly. Possibly tomorrow afternoon. *smiles* 

**Gionareth:** Yeah, something has to convince her. *g* 

**Steph-h:** Why? Did I upset you? I'm sorry. That doesn't mean much when I keep doing it, though, does it? *winces* Ah, well, really, really sorry this took so long. Why, thank you. *smiles brightly* Oh, and I think the spelling is fine, but I don't have enough money to do that! 

**Grumpy:** lol. Not yet. Maybe I should bring some kleenex, but I don't think you'll need them much longer, one way or another. *grins* Thanks. 

**Mirax:** lol. Exactly, I'm not mean. Just . . . Misunderstood. *g* Um, hitting Elrond? Can't says I do, but I hope you like what I did come up with. 

**Eleniel:** Ai, you people are breaking my heart, knowing I'm breaking yours and then can't update properly. Did I mention I'm sorry? It was a rather nice declaration, wasn't it. *smiles* The next one will be quicker. Promise. 

**Daisy:** You didn't have to, but I'm glad you did anyway. *g* Do you really think I would leave everybody so miserably unahppy? 

**Heathethanoshkosh:** Interesting name. Where did you come up with it? Hmm, well, if you count this one, I have two more. And killing me won't help you, cause then you'll never find out the end. Besides, I'm not so mean as to stop there. I care to muc for everyone's continued health. *g*****

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**Taraisilwen:** lol. You're right, I've never heard it before. I know, isn't it just the best? I was writing, and I thought to myself, what is the most romantic thing he could do? No I didn't. I just sat down and reached a really sad, miserable mind-frame and let pictures flow through my mind and wrote what I saw. Can you believe Aragorn and Arwen are putting themselves through this? Why they don't want to just make up and get it overwith is beyond me. *g* hehe. She is the eldest. It comes with the territory. Lol. I'd say you've got storm on the brain. Highly contagious. You should seek medical care. *g*****

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****Now, here it is, what you've all been waiting for. *g* This title is also Backstreet Boys, for disclaimer purposes, or if you really want to know. Feel free to leave comments and ideas for later chapters. I'm open to suggestions, if for no other reason than they help me focus on my own ideas, odd as that sounds. I lost my thread of inspiration after the next chapter, and I don't know where to go from there. Maybe by the time I need to post, I'll have found it again. *g* 

So, now, onto the chapter. Read. Have fun. Enjoy. Review. (Don't forget this last. It's of vital importance. *winks*) Run, Elrond! Run! Lol. 

=D****

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**Back to Your Heart**

Elladan stared after his father, watching as the elf lord disappeared among the trees, following the path Arwen had taken. His heart ached for his sister, but he knew of only one thing that would ease her pain, and she had already denied it. His troubled eyes instead turned to Aragorn, and he slowly made his way to where the man lay curled on the ground. Slowly, he eased himself down at his side and rested his hand on Aragorn's shoulder. 

He gained no response and it was not difficult to tell more than on heart had been hurt this day. He hoped it could be made right. With gentle yet firm hands, he gripped Aragorn by the shoulders and pulled him upright, bearing the man's weight when it became apparent he had no will to bear it on his own. He moved the human back and braced him against a tree so he could get a better look at him. 

Aragorn's hair was a tangled mess that would give any hairdresser fits and mixed with dirt for good measure. His clothes would probably never come clean and would need to be discarded, though if Aragorn actually liked them he would find some way to keep them (he had taken to complaining his clothes were too clean, but Elladan felt he meant "too new" and just did not want to say it). His face was a somewhat ashy gray and his cheeks hollow, making his face look gaunter than it really was, but it was his eyes that drew Elladan's attention; listless and empty, deep holes that sucked up all emotion and drained it away. His heart clenched afresh. He had never seen this look on his little brother before, but that did not mean he did not recognize it, for he did. He had seen it in too many eyes to miss it in a loved one. 

Tenderly, he pushed back a lock of hair from the human's face and ducked his head to try and catch silver-turned-gray eyes. "Do not give up hope, Estel." 

Those emotionless eyes turned on him slowly, sticking him to his place as their master confirmed what he feared: Aragorn had given up. "There is no hope." 

"There is still hope," Elladan insisted. Aragorn shook his head, and the elf stopped him, placing his hands on both sides of the human's head and forcing him to meet his eyes. "Yes, Aragorn. There is. It remains, and you cannot give up on it now, not after coming so far." 

"Why can I not?" Aragorn asked brokenly, and he would have had to be someone far colder not to hear the lost child in the man's voice. 

"Because it is not who you are," the elf insisted, staring insistently back at dull silver eyes that watched him steadily, willing his brother to understand and accept his words. "You have never quit, Aragorn. You have never lost hope. Through impossible odds you have held out and won; do not give in now!" 

He paused searching the human's face for his reaction. Silver eyes stared at him and he allowed himself to hope Aragorn would heed him. Then the man spoke and he remembered how painful hope was when it died. "It is over. There is nothing left to hope for." 

Elrohir arrived, then, bearing food, and Aragorn look away. "Come now, brother," the younger elf bid. "All is not over. She has not crossed the sea and you need to eat." 

"Ada will talk to her and then we will see what happens." 

Aragorn turned back to look at them and anger darkened his eyes. "I will not be a charity case." 

"Nor will Arwen accept one," Elladan answered without missing a beat, ignoring the human's anger. "And Ada does not think you are one. Arwen just is not thinking clearly, overwhelmed by all that has happened," or at least he hoped so, "and Ada will help her calm down. Then we'll see what happens." 

"And until then, you need to eat." 

Aragorn glanced at Elrohir. "I'm not hungry." 

"You don't _feel_ hungry," the younger elf corrected, "but you are hungry." 

"I could not eat," the human denied, turning his head away. 

Elladan and Elrohir exchanged frustrated glances, though he did note they had made progress, albeit very little progress, but any little bit helped and the twins knew their brother well enough to know they could win this one if they only played it right. Both settled down into a more comfortable position and settled in to wear the human down. 

*~*~*~*~* 

Elrond ran through the trees, half following nearly invisible tracks, half following his instincts, as he sought his daughter. She sought solitude, he knew, but he could not afford to give it to her. He had allowed it once, he would not allow it again. 

Several miles south of their camp, at the edge of a small pond surrounded by open plains, he found her staring at the water, her back to him. Having finally caught up, he slowed his pace and approached more cautiously, not entirely sure how she would react to his presence. Yet despite his fears, she did not move, and he stood but a few feet before her before long. "Arwen?" he called softly. 

She turned to face him, blue eyes full of tears that did not fall. "Ada," she sobbed, falling into his embrace and clinging to him as she had not since she was a child in search of comfort, and he held her close. 

"What is it, my child?" he asked, hoping she would speak. 

His heart broke for the hundredth time since this mess began when he heard her hoarse sobs. "It hurts," she choked out quietly. 

He rubbed his hand over her back and resisted the urge to forget everything and simply comfort her, choosing instead to get answers. "If it hurts, why did you do it?" 

The she-elf in his arms abruptly pushed away, quickly stepping backwards even as he fell back a pace, startled betrayal in her eyes. "Why?" she asked incredulously. "You know exactly why." Her lips trembled as tears threatened in the midst of her anger. "You saw. You saw from the beginning. Why did you let it go on, Ada? Why didn't you save me this pain?" 

Elrond had to close his eyes and fight to maintain control. Perhaps he should have had this discussion with her before they even left, but he had not thought they would need to have it at all. He approached her slowly, trying to catch her eyes. "Because I was wrong." 

She shook her head. "No, you were right." 

"Arwen." She looked up. "Do not be ruled by fear. Do not surrender your heart's desire to a future that is yet years removed." 

Again she shook her head, denying his words even as she backed away. "It is folly to love a Man. Their devotions are flighty and their memories short." 

He nearly hissed in vexation as he heard the familiar words of this argument repeated back to him, though they had stood on opposite sides, and regretted that she had been listening after all. "You held Aragorn truer than that," he countered. "Would you deny that now?" 

"There is no need to deny the truth, for it reveals itself in actions." 

"And has he not proven his love? Has he not shown you that his heart stands true?" Elrond asked. 

More tears welled in her eyes. "Why are you doing this, Ada? Why are you doing this?" 

"Because I want you to be happy." 

"Do I look happy?" she screamed as the tears finally escaped, and she stepped forward in agitation like she was going to walk him back, then rocked back and started wringing her hands together. "Do I look happy? Why must you torment me? You got your wish! Aragorn and I shall not marry! Your job is done! You wanted us to part, wanted me to cross the sea! You have it. Was my pain not enough then? You needed more?" Her anguished voice sliced the air with words as sharp as knives. She trembled harshly and he feared she would break, and her heart sank into a despairing whisper. "What more do you want? Why must you do this?" 

Delicate hands drifted up to her face and drifted back into her hair, tangling them in it, as she sank to the ground. She rocked back and forth with her eyes squeezed tightly shut as though she could deny the pain with the simple actions. Sorrow overwhelmed the elf lord and he wondered how many times his heart could break before he could not longer go on. 

Shaking slightly himself, he approached his daughter and sank down beside her, ignoring the water that soaked into his pants, and gently but firmly pulled her towards him. She did not resist the movement and her hands drifted from her hair to his robes, clenching them as if they were a lifeline, the only thing holding her ashore. He did his best to soothe her, whispering nonsense in her ear as he rocked them back and forth until she calmed. 

When she did, he continued to hold her but stopped rocking and let the calm of their surroundings seep into them, let the peace ease the bite of grief though it could not erase its stench. Then, and only then, when he felt sure she would truly listen, did he speak. 

He murmured gently in her ears as he held her. "I love you, Arwen, and my heart aches that I have not shown it." She made as if to protest and he shushed her gently. "I t has not shown or you would not be so hurt. For my part, I am sorry. It is past time you heart it. I am so sorry, my daughter, for the grief I have cause you." 

"It is well, Ada," she murmured. 

"No, it is not," he denied. "Not yet." A pause stretched between them, as he stared briefly out across the pond into the stretches of time, then he continued. "Do not deny Aragorn for my sake, Arwen." 

"But--" 

"No, do not do it. Do not do it because you want to please me, or because you believe my misguided words held wisdom. Do not do it lest you honestly do not love him. I was wrong, my daughter, to deny your wish. If it is what your heart desires, I bid you claim it and marry the man, Elessar." 

She pulled away then, and he let her go. She turned in his grasp and looked at him, searching his eyes and he met her gaze, smiling sadly. "You are sure, Ada?" 

"It has been too long since I last saw you smile. I have rarely been more sure of anything in my life, than I am sure of this now," he answered. 

A smile started to show on her face, but faded before it could be truly realized in all its beautiful glory. "It is too late." 

Elrond shook his head and stood, pulling Arwen up with him. "You may be surprised." 

"I could not return to Aragorn, thus," she denied, shaking her head as she moved away again. "To have denied his love only to return begging his heart." 

"How do you think he felt," Elrond countered, watching her retreat but not following, "when he rode to you across the lands of Middle-earth? I suspect he will understand." 

"Arwen turned back to look at him, her eyes wide with hope and fear. "You are sure?" 

He smiled and walked over to her. "As sure as I can be," he answered, then began leading her back to camp. "Of course, I would suggest you talk to him. After all, I was sure he would marry you ten years ago, and I was sure you would accept his offer now, and as you see, I was wrong both times." 

She smiled wanly. "Are you sure, Ada?" 

"I am not the one who needs to be sure," Elrond answered. "Do you want to be with him? Do you love him?" 

"Yes." He raised an eyebrow expectantly and she smiled. "Thank you, Ada." 


	11. Tell Him

Hi, everyone! This title is from the Let's Talk About Love soundtrack for no particular reason, except that I like the title and the idea is about what I want for this chapter. This is what you've all been waiting for, I think. So I won't talk long. 

**Steph-h:** Oh, I'm glad. It's always good to feel better. 

**Gionareth:** Yes, the long awaited reunion. Updated now. *g* 

**Taraisilwen:** Not that bad in my opinion. *g* But that's my opinion. Why, thank you. Yes, definitely a good thing to avoid soap-operas, not that I've really ever watched them. What happens next? This. *g* 

**Daisy:** Oh, well, they get together soon. Your welcome. 

**Grumpy:** lol. Oh, good, I liked that, too. And you can put the tissues away. It's always good to look forward to more. 

**Heathethanoshkosh:** Such language. But I appreciate the sentiment, though I can, apparently. *g* lol. Okay, but you gain nothing by killing me. 

*looks at the reviewers* Uh, I'll just be going now. *edges away toward shelter* Just, um, just read and review. Be nice, now. And, we'll see what happens. Yes? *smiles nervously* Right. 

*runs for her life* 

**Tell Him**

The impromptu camp where the elves had decided to wait was quiet, each anxious to see what happened with their Evenstar and just as happy to finally be at the sea. A couple walked around in groups, disappearing towards the sea, then returning with wide smiles on their faces to stand around and wait, occasionally joking lightly between themselves, though their voices rarely carried very far. 

He had been left alone by the tree after Elladan and Elrohir had succeeded in getting him to eat, and he had been glad when they left to search for their still absent family for it meant they could not longer pester him to get some sleep. And despite their efforts, he was well aware the twins had asked their kin to keep an eye on him. He caught their glances in his direction every five minutes, like clockwork, and he had made a game of trying to predict who would look next. Had he not been too tired, and the effort not worth it, he might have been annoyed. As it was, he could only manage vague amusement. 

He was so tired. If he had been asleep, he would have sworn Elladan and Elrohir had drugged him, so heavy were his eyelids. Of course, if he were asleep he would not be able to ponder such matters. That would likely not be a bad idea, admittedly, but he could not sleep, on principle, and could not seem to manage the task even had he wanted to, so he was stuck. 

Dull eyes flickered up as the distance that had remained between him and the elves was breached. A willowy figure in sparkling white stood before him, piercing blue eyes and long golden hair serving to help him establish identity. "Lady Galadriel," he said, and began attempting to stand. 

"Stay where you are, Elessar," she bid. "You should be sleeping." 

"What did Elladan and Elrohir do to get everyone to watch me?" he asked instead, relaxing back against the tree. It really took to much effort to make sense of what was going on. Why had Galadriel come to speak to him? Surely not to bid him sleep? 

A slight smile curved her lips. "Something truly creative, though I cannot imagine what." 

"I can imagine," he murmured, his mind doing just that as it wandered just outside the realm of sleep. Then he remembered she had not left. "Was there something you wanted, my lady?" 

She moved closer, then seemed to shrink before him eyes, her gown bunching on the ground around her, and it took him a moment to realize she had knelt beside him. "You have a gift, Aragorn, the gift of your station, for gaining the faith of your subjects. It is a rare being who is not caught by your charms." She watched him as he blinked at her, unable to puzzle out her words and not sure he wanted to. "Not in many centuries has a Man been so readily accepted by every race, nor counted so true a friend among the Eldar. Use your skills well, Elessar, and maintain your kingdom's peace. You will prosper, and your kingdom with flourish. But this is not what I would speak of. What I desired was to give you this." 

A small token was revealed on her palm, and he sat up to gain a better look at it. The size of a large coin, it fit easily on her hand, wrought in the colors of the North Kingdom from precious stones bound and held in a plate of mithril which sparkled even in the light that filtered through the trees. It showed a white tree juxtaposed over the symbol of the House of Elrond, and the detailed beauty surpassed that of any work he had seen. 

He pried his eyes away from it to look up at Galadriel. "Why?" he breathed. "Elrond. . . ." 

"This was not Elrond's. It was his twin's, and your ancestor's. Before Elros journeyed to Mandos' Halls, he delivered it into my keeping and bid me keep it for his heir." 

"Then why are you giving it to me? Why not--" 

"An earlier descendent? Because he asked it to be delivered into the hands of the one who would treasure it for what it represented, not for its monetary value. One for who its worth lay in the heart and not in the coin. It is yours. By name and by right." 

He stared down at it, watching the light play over the perfectly cut jewels, then looked back up. "Thank you." 

She smiled, then gently placed the piece in his hand and turned to stare into the south. Aragorn followed her gaze, idly gripping the jewel in his fist, and could just make out two figures in the distance, approaching quickly. "Elladan and Elrohir return," she offered idly, though nothing was ever truly idle with the Lady of the Golden Woods, one just could not always see her purpose. "I wonder what news they bear." 

The human looked over to see her walking away in the opposite direction , leaving him to surmise she already knew and was trying to pique his interest. She need not have troubled herself; it likely involved Arwen, he was already interested. 

Watching their approach carefully, he waited until he could make out their expressions, then stood. It was vaguely amusing to him to see their expressions change from placid excitement to anxious frustration. He braced his weight against the tree behind him to help gain and maintain his feet, and waited for the twins to approach him. He did not have to wait long. 

"Estel! Why are you up?" Elladan demanded, grabbing the human by his arms, and doing more to upset his balance than help him keep it. He grabbed his brother's arm to steady himself, ignoring his questions; he had a more important one. 

"How is Arwen? Is she all right?" 

"Sit down, Estel." 

"She's fine," Elrohir answered while his brother tried to get the human to sit back down. "She and Father will be back soon." 

"Now sit down." 

Aragorn looked past them, staring back in the directions the twins had come from, unconsciously resisting his brother's attempts to seat him. Arwen was coming back. What did it mean? Would she want to see him? Could be bear to see her? Could he not? His heart thrummed in his chest and anticipation flowed through him. He needed to see her again, even if it was the last time, even if it hurt. 

Elladan frowned at Aragorn, then turned to his brother. "He's not listening to us." 

"Mayhap we should just let him be," Elrohir suggested cautiously. 

"He is not well," the elder protested. "He has pushed himself too far." 

"I know that," the younger allowed. "You know that. Everyone here knows that. On some level, even Aragorn knows that, but you will never get him to cooperate until he is ready." 

"Listen to your brother, Elladan," Aragorn murmured, his eyes still focused on the horizon and his attention obviously just as far away. 

Elladan frowned, then sighed and followed the human's line of sight. He could easily make out the approaching forms of his sister and father, but they must be nearly indecipherable to the man by his side. He looked at Elrohir, then glanced past Aragorn to the gathered elves. He nodded and received a small smile from Lindlin, who began quietly sending elves away, slowly wheedling the gathered group to just a few as the two figures approached and minutes slid away until the elf lord and his daughter stood before them. 

Elrond smiled at Estel as he stepped in front of his daughter ever so slightly then addressed the twins, his tone vaguely disappointed. "Come, my sons. We must talk." 

Surprise stiffened their spines, but neither protested, recognizing their father's expression. They followed silently, leaving Aragorn and Arwen alone. The two watched them go and noticed for the first time they were quite alone, the rest of the elves melting away with the elven lord. The human watched them go with mixed feelings, anxiety suddenly loosing butterflies in his stomach, then turned to face Arwen. 

"It looks like they planned this," Arwen observed, watching them disappear among the trees. 

"So it appears," Aragorn answered, wincing internally at the statement. "You can go with them" he offered, gesturing awkwardly over his should, "if you like." 

"Do you want me to?" Her large eyes studied him closely. 

He swallowed hard and licked dry lips. He could not remember a time when he had been so nervous around Arwen, and it tied his tongue. "No. That is, unless you want to." 

Her eyes darted to his then strayed past him and she shifted uncomfortably. "I would stay," she answered softly, his hands tangling before her. 

Silence fell, neither quite sure what to say, and Aragorn resisted the urge to shuffle his feet, to bite his nails, to run his hands through his hair, all those myriad gestures that betrayed nervousness, and steadfastly clasped his hands behind him. He looked at her, and she looked back, her blue eyes wide. He opened his mouth to speak, but his mind was not keeping up with his body and nothing came out. He closed it. 

Arwen smiled self-consciously and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her elegant ears. Her eyes darted around as she searched for something to say and found the item clutched in Aragorn's hand. "What's that?" she asked, anxious to break the silence, not sure how to ask what she really wanted to know. 

"Huh?" Aragorn blinked, then followed her gaze and started. "Oh, that." He presented it for her inspection and kept his eyes glued to the sparkling jewel as he spoke. "Lady Galadriel gave it to me, an heirloom of Lord Elros that she claims belongs to me." 

"It's beautiful," she murmured, extending her hand without thought to run her fingers over the jewels. 

"Not so beautiful as you," Aragorn replied softly without thought. Arwen froze in surprise. "I'm sorry," he said. 

"No," Arwen said, looking up into his eyes, meeting his gaze. "Don't be." 

Aragorn smiled slightly. "Are you to pass over the sea?" 

"I have no reason to stay," Arwen answered, watching the man through her lashes, hoping he would ask her again. 

He swallowed and stared down at the hand that still rested in his. He traced his thumb over the back of her hand, recognizing the answer for what it was, an invitation, but not quite able to voice the question. He did not know what had happened while she was with her father. He could not take the risk that her answers would be according to her own will. "Have you reason to leave?" 

"My father once wished it." 

Aragorn braced himself. "And now?" 

"Now he wishes me to be happy," Arwen answered. Her stomach fluttered nervously as she waited for his response. 

Silver eyes searched hers and she found she could not look away, even had she wanted to. He whispered, "What would make you happy?" 

Her eyes drifted closed, then revealed themselves to him once more. "I was happy once, under the boughs of trees with golden leaves while laughter mingled in the warm air. When quiet held sway and the stars shone down their beauty upon the love expressed beneath their light with quiet words and tender actions." She licked her lips and gazed up into the eyes that watched her intently. "I was happy with you." 

Aragorn looked down at their hands, and a frown briefly touched his face as he fought within himself to believe her. "You said this was not then," he reminded her quietly. "Are you not of same mind?" 

"Fear changes many minds," she answered. "I would speak with true feeling." 

"And how do I judge thee true?" 

She opened her mouth, then closed it. How could she possibly answer that question? How could she know what would prove truth to him? She looked up into silver eyes. "By my heart." His hand grazed her cheek and she closed her eyes, fighting back tears before looking into his eyes again. "What more could show?" 

He shook his head fractionally. "You do not need to prove yourself. But I would not hold you to a fate you do not want." 

"Then ask again." 

He searched her eyes a moment, drinking in the light that had returned as they spoke, then took her other hand in his and, with a small smile, dropped slowly back down to his knees. He kissed the back of her hand, then looked back into her eyes and asked his question once more, word for word as he had the first time, his heart just as full. 

"Arwen Undomiel, Evenstar, fairest of all the lands, will you grant me, Aragorn Elessar, the gift of your hand in marriage, and join me in life and in death?" 

A moment stretched between them, anticipation and joy building and she smiled, the pain of the past all but disappeared. "I will." 

*~*~*~*~* 

*~*~*~*~* 

The End. 

Please don't kill me. 


End file.
